


Hot For Teacher

by CookieDoughMe



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, What Duke was maybe hoping for when he showed Vanessa the Gull, and maybe what might have even happened, and maybe what she was hoping for too, if the Troubles hadn't got in the way, trouble-free AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieDoughMe/pseuds/CookieDoughMe
Summary: In a Trouble-free world, Duke and his old babysitter have a drink in the Gull. This results in a lot more fun for both of them than it did in canon.





	1. Duke

Duke had gone to the high school to introduce Audrey to Vanessa Stanley, Guidance Counsellor (and also his old babysitter), as a favour to his favourite cop. As they'd walked up the corridor he'd played with the lockers, unsure how he felt about seeing Vanessa again for the first time since he was, what 12 years old?

She had been good company when Simon used to leave him with her, too busy or distracted to tell Duke when he would be back again. Even when she was too busy with homework (or phone calls to boyfriends) to really keep him entertained, he had been happy to hang out in her company, reading a book, watching her work (listening to her phone calls). Sometimes she talked to him too, sometimes they played some game or another. She treated him like the kid he was but she didn't talk down to him. She didn't ask too much of him either; he could relax with her, he could he himself. He had liked her and he was fairly sure she had at least not been too irritated by him. 

But that had been 27 years ago; a time span long enough to change anyone. He most certainly was not the same person anymore; who would she be now?

He had been pleasantly surprised by the woman they met, to the extent that it had evidently been obvious to Audrey and so he assumed probably to Vanessa too. She hadn't been able to help much with the old case that Audrey was investigating, but then that had been a long shot anyway, and Audrey was still happy to cross an avenue of investigation off her list. As they had left to let Vanessa get back to work, she had handed him her card, suggested they catch up properly sometime. He had taken it with a smile, his fingers brushing hers as he'd taken it, and lingering there in the touch as she returned the smile, told him she was free tomorrow.

And now tomorrow was here and here she was too, standing across the bar from him, telling him how charming the place was. He grinned at her, glad she had come. He remembered the teenager he had known before and as he looked at her now he knew that she had changed, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly how. She was still beautiful, he knew that much. She was clearly older than him and at a certain point, or with certain women perhaps, that would inevitably become less appealing, but Vanessa, right now, seemed to wear her age as confidence; it was nothing but an asset to her beauty. 

She had grown more elegant with age too: her eyes held less makeup now than that they had in the 1980s and the subtle black eyeliner was an improvement over the multiple blues and pinks and greens and yellows that had been fashionable then, he felt. It showed off her eyes and complemented her hair and ... God - when had he ever been one to analyse a woman's makeup? He wondered at himself as he asked what she wanted to drink; on the house of course.

He had been with older women before; he had been through a phase in fact in his early 20s of actively seeking them out; looking for that experience, wanting to be with women who could teach him how to be good in bed, who had the self assurance and confidence to know what they wanted and how to ask for it. And they had had a lot fun together, him and those women, and he was grateful to all of them, but few of them had had eyes as dazzling as Vanessa's, or a smile quite as intoxicating. 

He was self aware enough to wonder whether he would be feeling quite so enthusiastic about her if he were meeting her now for the first time, or whether the impression she had left on him at a specific point in his life was part of the attraction now, but he was also relaxed enough in himself not to care. He liked her, he found her beautiful, and if she could see something appealing in him as well then why shouldn't they have some fun together?

She smiled at him as she asked for wine and he wondered how she felt about his relative youth; something else that could be an asset or a liability, depending on the person perhaps. Which category would he fall into? There were maybe two ways to be young, he thought; innocent and naive or adventurous and eager to please. He hoped she would see him as the latter and after all, it was a very, very long time since anyone had called him naive.

She let her fingers brush against his as she took the glass from him, lingering there for a long long moment before she pulled away.


	2. Vanessa

Vanessa had been surprised to get the call from Duke last week, asking if he could bring a friend to meet her to talk about an old murder case. She had been glad that Duke introduced himself and gave some context to how they knew each other, because she certainly would not have recognised him from his voice. This deep, smooth, confident voice that spilled out of the phone and seeped into her brain like silk, a sound that flowed slowly through her whole body like warm honey.

Not that it should be surprising that he sounded different. He had still been a kid when she'd last seen him and that had been a long time ago; she’d not been much more than a kid herself and everyone changes over the course of 27 years. And then when he arrived in her office, she was reminded again that what he had done since she'd last seen him was not simply change, but grow up.

She invited him and his detective friend in. He beamed at her and in that lightning grin she saw echoes of the boy he had been: cheeky, quick, and with a knack for talking himself out of trouble. She could see how the rumours about him smuggling might be true.

For the most part though, she struggled to reconcile the man stood in front of her with the boy she had known: he had grown up tall, and filled out in all the right places. And it was not just the sound of his voice that drew her attention, but the way he used it. Not just the shape of his hands but the way his fingers moved as he talked. Not just the shape of his body either but the way he held himself, the way he  _ moved _ . Almost as though he knew how attractive he was, but still he managed to stay on the right side of the line between confidence and arrogance.

She consciously turned her attention to the detective asking about a day on the beach 27 years ago, and though she agreed that was her in the photo she had to apologise that she didn't remember what happened next. She hadn’t known the dead man in the photo and she had really only been there to see what everyone was looking at. The detective nodded, thanked her for her time and put away the photos. It had been a long shot anyway, she said.

Vanessa had reluctantly realised she had to get back to work and had handed Duke her card as they left, lingering over the suggestion he give her a call, happy to talk to him some time even if nothing else happened, happy to bask in that dazzling smile.

And happy to find that he called her that night, invited her for a drink at his bar. She had driven past it once or twice, always meant to check it out some time. She told him she was looking forward to it.

And now here she was, taking a glass of wine from him and following him across the room to a free table, noticing again that he was taller than her now, noticing the way he walked, the strength of his shoulders, trying not to be too obvious about it as she checked out his ass.


	3. Duke/Vanessa

“So, you're a ... smuggler?” she asked, fascinated; with a smile rather than as an accusation. 

“Well ... it's true I've had several encounters with various law enforcement entities, but I'm an importer,” Duke countered automatically. He looked at her across the table, taking in her beauty all over again, wanting to run his hands through her hair and brush his fingers across her lips.   
  
She couldn't let his answer go at that; he always had been good with words, finding subtle ways to twist or evade  something's meaning. It didn't matter to her how he earnt his money really, but she was curious. So she pushed, asked again, with a smile again, “Importing illegal goods?” She watched him as she asked, the way he leant on the table, the set of his shoulders, the curve of his neck.

“Well,” he relented, flashed that lightning grin at her, “everything is illegal somewhere.”

She smiled back with a nod, left it at that. “So you have your own boat?” she asked, thinking of him sailing the world, finding exotic beaches in some distant location; long stretches of pure white sand and clear blue water undiscovered by tourists. She imagined him pulling his t-shirt over those strong shoulders to dive into the water, cutting smoothly through it towards the beach to walk over the sand and dry off in the sun, trails of water running over suntanned skin.

Duke nodded, “A cargo ship. The Cape Rouge. She's home, wherever in the world I am.” He watched her watching him, wondered what she was thinking, what she made of his choices in life.

“You always did love the sea,” she said fondly. “I remember that battered old toy wooden boat you used to play with.”

Even as he was obscurely pleased that she remembered him that well at all, he felt the need to turn the conversation away from his childhood toys. “Hmmm, this one is a little… bigger,” he pointed out, looking up from his drink to lock eyes with her at the last word.

She watched the way his hands moved; his fingers playing over the surface of the glass he held, and wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of that touch. She thought about pulling his body close to hers, running her hands over his shoulders. For a moment she was lost in distraction at the thought of his fingers dancing over the back of her neck.

“She took me all over the world for 10 years and now she's moored just along the way,” Duke told her with a gesture out of the window towards where his ship lay along the coast. The top button of her blouse was undone and he wanted to slide his hand inside, find out what kind of underwear she wore, strip the fabric away and kiss the sweat from her skin.

“You must have met some interesting people in all that travelling, seen some beautiful places?” she asked.

Duke nodded, took the opportunity to go for a compliment. “I have seen some  _ spectacular  _ places and met some  _ fascinating  _ women, but I never forgot about the beauty here in Haven,” he finished, looking at her the whole time, ignoring the view out the window.

She smiled back at him, played with her drink for a moment. “I'd like to see it sometime; the Cape Rouge.”

“Sure. Nice day for a walk along the coast,” he suggested with a glance outside. 

-

As they left the building she walked down the steps ahead of him and he took the chance to admire her figure in her pencil skirt and kitten heels.

“On second thoughts, I don't think the rocky coastal path will be too kind to those shoes. How about I drive us instead?” he suggested and turned towards his truck. 

“That's yours? Interesting truck,” she said.

“Will take you wherever you need to go,” he told her.

She walked around the hood, trailed her fingers over the metal. “Promise?” she asked.

-

A short drive later, they walked up to the Rouge and Duke watched her for a reaction. “She'll fool you from the outside,” he told her as they stepped on board. He showed her into the galley and she had to agree.

“This is lovely,” she said with feeling, looking around at the comfy padded benches and eclectic artwork on the walls.

“Thank you,” he replied, pleased at her reaction. “Let me show you around. This is the galley, the bedroom is through there...”

He hadn’t really expected her to, but she followed his gesture to step inside, looking around at the artwork, the generously sized bed, the sofa along one wall. “You don’t skimp on style,” she told him.

“I know what I like,” he told her, and stepped into the room to join her.

“Well you have great taste,” she told him. “Was it like this when you got it?” she asked, running her fingers over the wooden pannelling on the walls.

He laughed, “um … no. She was a bit of a mess in here to be honest; took a fair bit of work to get her sorted out.”

She heard a hint of pride in his voice; at his work or the results, or at the Cape Rouge herself she wasn’t sure. “You did it all yourself?” she asked. “Must have been a lot of work.”

“I did,” he said. “It took a while, since I had to do it all between … importing jobs,” he paused for a quick grin, “but it was worth it. I learnt a lot doing it too.”

She looked around the room, imagining it bare of furnishings, Duke stripping the walls perhaps or sanding the floor; stripped to the waist and hot as he worked in the confined space. Shaking the dust from his hair as he finished for the day and took himself off for a shower. “It’s impressive; you did a great job,” she told him.

“Thanks,” he replied, and stepped a little closer, letting the bedroom door swing shut behind him. “See anything else you like?” he asked.

She let her gaze travel all over his body before she answered. “You grew up fine Duke Crocker.”

He closed the space between them in a single long stride. “And you are just as beautiful as ever,” he told her. He reached up slowly to play with a strand of her hair, twirling it around his fingers. After a moment she leant forward to kiss him and he responded eagerly, bringing both hands to her jaw and pushing his fingers into her hair. They kissed slowly, enjoying the moment. She ran her hands down his back to pull him close, and he pulled out of the kiss to dot kisses down her neck.

“Tell me what you want,” he asked, in a brief moment when his lips left her skin.

“Your hands on my back,” she told him. “Your tongue in my mouth.”

He happily obliged on both counts, spreading his fingers across her back as they kissed. She pulled at his shirt, wanting to feel more of him, and he took the opportunity to pull it off and let it fall to the floor before darting back for another kiss. She pushed her hands into his hair, curled her fingers against his scalp and he leaned into the touch.

“I want to undress you,” he told her. She responded with a happy moan but he asked any way as he started undoing a button, “This OK?”

“It is if you hurry up about it,” she told him.

“Yes ma'am,” he answered with a grin. He undid the buttons of her blouse and pulled it from her skirt. She unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it and he pushed her white blouse open to show matching plain white underwear, looked down her body to see legs shown off by the shoes she still wore. She put a hand to his chest to push him gently backwards and when the back of his legs hit the sofa, he sat down to look up at her. He watched as she pulled her underwear down over her legs and stepped out of her shoes.

“I hope you have been told often how beautiful you are,” he told her as he pulled off the rest of his own clothes.

She smiled and straddled him, saying, “Some things it’s better to show than tell.”

He took the hint and kissed her again, ran his lips down her throat, kissed her chest. He pushed her blouse back off her shoulders and as she let it fall to the floor he undid the clasp on her bra to pull that from her skin as well. He ran his hands and his mouth over her skin, dotted kisses down her throat and over her breasts, lips gently brushing over tender skin.

It felt great but she wanted more. "Use your tongue," she told him. He brushed a thumb over a nipple before pressing his tongue flat to it and then pushing his mouth down over her, warm and wet, to flick the point of his tongue against her nipple, back and forth. Again. And again. He grinned to himself as she dropped her head back and moaned. She arched her back and he spread his hands across it again, holding some of her weight as he moved his attentions to her other nipple, leaving the wet skin of the first to cool as the air brushed over it instead.

She put her hand to his jaw, prompting him to look up at her as she bent forwards, her hair brushing his skin as she kissed him. He returned the kiss eagerly, and cupped her breasts with his hands, palms pressing warm and tight against her skin. After a little while he drew his kisses down her neck and chest again, then shifted lower on the sofa to kiss her stomach, moving down her body as he asked, “You want to find out what else I can do with my tongue?”

She looked down at him, “If you fuck me after.”

“You want me to make you come first?” he asked, wanting to be sure he understood, wanting to give her whatever she wanted.

“hmmm not…. quite,” she replied, trailing her fingers through his hair.

He grinned, understanding, “Let my tongue do most of the work, have my cock tip you over the edge.”

“Think you can handle that?”

He wrapped his hands around her waist, held her tight as he asked, “How do you want it, soft and slow or hard and fast?”

“Hard,” she answered quickly, then clarified. “Soft with your tongue, hard with your cock.”

He grinned again before leaning up to kiss her, and then dotted kisses along her jawline to whisper in her ear, “I am going to make you  _ scream _ .”

He shifted back on the sofa and pulled her hips towards him. She shifted her knees forward a little and started to say "Promise?" but then he pressed his lips to hers and the end of the word fell away.

He kissed her softly, pushed his tongue against her and along her labia, found her clit and flicked his tongue softly against it; not too hard, not too soft. She gripped the back of the sofa and shifted her hips slightly for a better angle. 

She was soon breathing hard but her next moan was cut short when he pulled away. She looked down, about to object until she saw him reaching into the chest of drawers next to the sofa. He pulled out a condom. “Always be prepared,” he quoted at her with a grin. 

“You were never a boy scout,” she said with affection.

He ripped the condom pack open with his teeth. “Well they never had a badge for  _ this _ ,” he replied with a flick of his eyebrows, and opened his mouth to curl his tongue at her.

She leant backwards a little to give him more room and, with not a little impatience, watched him roll the condom down his cock. “I love the thought of you hard and waiting, ready for me,” she told him.

“I am ready,” he agreed happily, “but I'm not  _ waiting _ ; I'm having fun. The feel of you, the taste of you.” He looked up at her. “The sounds you make. Knowing I'm doing that to you.”

“You are,” she said. "You really are." She shifted forwards again and he pulled her hips towards his mouth. He held her against him, palms pressed against ass cheeks as he kissed and licked, flicked his tongue over her clit and pushed it against her cunt.

And when he felt the tension in her body grow and heard the pitch of her moans reach a certain point, he pulled away and stood up to wrap his arms and hands around her back, taking her weight as he moved the two of them to the bed and put her down on her back. She wrapped her legs around his hips he moved up to her, the tip of his cock just lightly pressing against her cunt; a suggestion, a pause while he asked her, “Tell me what you want."

“Yes, God, fuck me,” she said, looked up at him, “Hard; I want to feel you inside me.”

He pushed into her, a short sharp movement and she pulled his hips to her in encouragement. As he moved again and again she pressed him down as much as pulled him forward, angling her own hips too - to put more pressure on her clit he realised.

He thrust into her again and again, quick, hard sharp movements that he held tight against her body for a moment before pulling back to do it again. He watched her expressions of pleasure on her face beneath him and revelled in the sounds she made and only once she had shuddered through her own orgasm did he let himself come as well.

Afterwards, they lay on the bed, legs tangled together and he ran a finger down her arm as he asked with a smirk, “So, do I earn a badge for that?”

She laughed at the joke in surprise and delight, and as she told him that if such a badge existed he would certainly deserve one, he thought that of the many sounds of pleasure she had made that afternoon, that laugh was almost his favourite of all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you are glad you did, then any form of positive comment is always much appreciated.


End file.
